


Don't Let Go

by DeansDirtyLittleSecret



Category: Supernatural
Genre: F/M, Mild Language
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-09-17
Updated: 2017-09-17
Packaged: 2018-12-30 15:47:15
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 608
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/12112017
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/DeansDirtyLittleSecret/pseuds/DeansDirtyLittleSecret
Summary: You find yourself in a precarious position when you’re alone on a hunt.





	Don't Let Go

 

Thirty feet didn’t seem like a lot, unless you were dangling from a catwalk thirty feet above the stage of at the local high school, one hand wrapped around the metal bar, the other reaching for the hex bag lodged between the slats of the walkway. Nine down, only one to go. This witch was a first class bitch.

You snatched the bag with two fingers, yanking it free and shoving it in your jacket pocket. You swung your legs, gaining momentum until your bootheels hit the one of the metal slats and you could wrap your legs around it, pulling yourself up. You crawled several feet to the next hex bag, dropping off the side, reaching for it.

You almost had it, your fingers were brushing against the sealed top of the bag, almost pulling it into your hands when a door slamming beneath you startled you, making you jump. Your hand slipped and your heart skipped and you knew, knew, you were going to fall, your death just another “hunt gone wrong” moment to be discussed at future hunter funerals. You squeezed your eyes closed, bracing yourself for the inevitable.

You felt it, the fall, your body dropping, that feeling deep in your gut like you felt when you were on a swing, the scream building in your throat, cut off by a hand closing around your wrist. Your body jolted, your neck wrenching painfully.

“I got you,” the all too familiar voice said. “Jesus, that was close.”

“Sam,” you gasped. “Thank God.”

“How do you get yourself into these things, Y/N?” Sam grimaced, grabbing your arm with both hands and bracing his feet against the metal bars. 

“Not now, Sam,” you muttered, reaching for the walkway.

A piercing scream broke through the dark, on and on, so unbelievably loud that you wanted to cover your ears. The witch burst through the door a hundred feet from you, screaming at the top of her lungs. Sam groped for his gun with one hand while you desperately tried to get a secure hold on something, anything.

“Sam!” you screamed, your fingers slipping.

Two gunshots rang out, followed by a loud crash as the witch’s body fell from the rafters and hit the stage floor below. Sam’s face appeared above you, his hands closing around both of your wrists.

You curled your fingers around his wrists, staring up at him, tears leaking from the corner of your eyes. “Don’t let go, Sam, don’t you let go,” you whispered.

“I promise, I won’t let go,” he said. He braced a foot against the walkway and pulled with all of his strength, pulling until he could get a hand beneath your arms, then he was dragging you to your feet, his arms around you, holding you close.

You buried your face against his chest, sniffling, trying to quell the tears before they hit full force.

“Hey, hey,” Sam soothed, “you’re okay. I got you, you’re good.”

“Thank you,” you breathed, rising up on your toes and pressing a kiss to Sam’s cheek. “I’d be, well, dead, if you hadn’t come along.”

Sam blushed and took a step back, releasing you. He shrugged one shoulder, mumbling “you’re welcome” under his breath. He straightened his jacket and pointed over his shoulder. “What do you say we get out of here?” He spun on his heel and started down the metal walkway toward the small door at the end.

You hurried to catch up with him, grabbing his hand, intertwining your fingers with his. He lifted your clasped hands and looked questioningly at them.

“You promised not to let go,” you grinned.


End file.
